The Monster Under The Bed
by evilexboyfriend
Summary: Vince's reoccurring dreams are turning rapidly into reoccurring nightmares, and those reoccurring nightmares take the Boosh boys closer to Hell than they could possibly imagine..
1. Dream Catcher

The monster under the bed

_They were coming. He knew they were coming. His heart was pounding in his ears, fast and afraid. Curled up in a kind of self-hug, knees brought up to his chest, he shook with terror. Biting his lip so hard it bled, his big blue eyes anxiously peering out, tears running unchecked down his face. He huddled in the corner of the room; gaze locked on the door; bolted, even though he knew that wouldn't stop them. Outside, a floorboard creaked. He jumped, clamping a hand over his mouth to stifle a cry. Slow and deliberate footsteps echoed around the landing, just on the other side of the flimsy plywood door. Breathing deeply, trying not to lapse into hyperventilation, he scrunched his eyes shut and buried his head between his knees. The footsteps stopped. But they were still coming. He knew they were…_

Vince awoke with a start, body drenched in sweat, coughing violently.

"Howard?" he called out. "Howard?" louder this time, and the jazzy Northerner walked in, holding a cup of tea in his hands. Vince's hair was dishevelled, his eyes wide with dark circles underneath.

"What's wrong, little man?" Howard asked, concern seeping in through the edges of his voice as he sat down on the end of Vince's bed. Vince was shaking slightly.

"I had… it was… I-" he stumbled over his own words. Howard placed a hand on his shoulder. Vince took in a deep breath, calming himself. "I had a bad dream," he said finally, then frowned. No, no; that was an understatement. "An awful dream. Like, really horrible, Howard."

Howard smiled pitifully. For a moment he thought something was really wrong.

"What happened?" he asked. But Vince just shook his head. "…Vince?"

Vince began to speak again, but this time he was quieter, voice small and fractured.

"I've had it more than once," he admitted.

"What do you mean?"

"…Every day this week. It scares me, Howard, it's horrible!"

Howard rubbed a hand in circles around his friend's back, hushing him soothingly. "Shush, it's okay. You don't have to tell me."

"But I want to," Vince squeaked. "I _need_ to."

Howard furrowed his brow. "Not if you feel uncomfortable talking about it, Vince."

"No, Howard, I need to," Vince insisted, raising big sapphire eyes to meet Howard's. "I've got this feeling that if I don't, something really bad will happen to both of us."

Howard laughed gently. "Nothing bad's gonna happen to you. Nothing worse than your straighteners breaking or whatever-"

"My straighteners have broken?" Vince's eyes flashed with alarm.

"No," Howard chuckled. "That was an example."

"Oh," Vince smiled briefly, before returning to his trembling state. Howard chewed his lip momentarily, before nudging his friend lightly.

"'Ey," he said softly. "This isn't like you. Come on, tell me about it."

Vince hiccupped, and shook his head, looking up at Howard with what seemed to be a genuine smile.

"No, it's fine. I'm fine. Just a silly dream, right?"

Howard breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God, you're back."

They both laughed, and Howard ruffled Vince's hair, and Vince shot Howard a playful glare. Howard smirked, standing up.

"You alright, little man?" he checked. The bedhead nodded and smiled and repeated;

"It was just a silly dream."

* * *

**I've never written horror before so I thought I'd give it a shot (:**

**Please r/r (: (: Sorry i haven't posted anything for sooooo long! I am still alive!**

**xxx**


	2. Left Alone

"Right, we're off," Naboo's lisping voice cut through the peaceful scilence as Vince and Howard slurped quietly on spaghetti O's. Both looked up.

"Where you going?" Vince asked, casting an eye over the small packing cases the tiny shaman and his primate familiar were carrying.

"Saboo's birthday weekend," Bollo replied. "Glow sticks, and all."

Howard raised an eyebrow, but decided better of questioning the gorilla's last comment.

"You'll look after the shop, yeah?" Naboo asked.

"You can count on us," Howard grinned. Naboo frowned, looking past Howard to where Vince was giving him a thumbs up.

"Alright, we'll be back Monday evenin'. "

"Take care, precious Vince," Bollo said, patting Vince on the back with a big hairy hand.

"Have fun, Bollo," Vince smiled.

"Yeah, have fun," Howard countered enthusiastically. Bollo squinted slightly.

"See you, Harold."

Howard's face fell, and Vince hid his giggles behind a Topshop catalogue.

"Come on, Bollo, we'll miss the carpet…" Naboo mumbled, waving vaguely before walking downstairs and out the shop door. Howard turned his attention back to Vince, glaring.

"What are you laughing at."

Vince simply sighed happily, turning a page.

Suddenly a thud sounded from upstairs and Vince dropped the magazine in his pasta.

"Whatwasthat?" he asked all in one breath. Howard looked up.

"Probably just the wind knocking something over," he summarised casually. "You're on edge today, little man."

Vince shrugged as though he hadn't really heard, still staring at the ceiling.

**X**

"Howard," Vince whispered. It was dark; night-time, and Vince was wide awake. "Are you sleeping?"

There was a pause. Then;

"Yes."

"I'm scared," the younger's voice was wavering slightly. Howard rolled over so he could see his best friend's face, pale and illuminated by moonlight.

"What are you scared of?"

Vince hesitated. "…I don't wanna go to sleep."

Howard sighed.

"Vince, they're dreams. Nothing more."

"They're nightmares."

"Makes no difference," Howard smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way. "They're not real."

Vince returned the smile- albeit, a little weakly- and rolled over.

"Night, Howard."

"Sweet dreams."

"Piss off," Vince laughed, letting gentle silence take over, and eventually letting the claws of sleep beckon him in.

**X**

_As his battered Chelsea boots made soft creaks against the ageing floor, his eyes darted left and right. The November air was spilling in through the open skylight and he shivered, the tiny hairs on the backs of his arms standing up. Tentatively and carefully, he dared call out his companion's name._

"_H-Howard?"_

_Suddenly he was knocked to the floor and pulled backwards by something with a strong grip around each of his ankles. He screamed, grappling at the floorboards, blood beading up underneath his nails. He was being taken into the shadows, and fearing for his life he could have sworn he heard someone yell his name-_

**X**

"**Vince**!" Vince's eyes flew open and he gasped, seeing a face looming over his.

"Howard?" he whispered. The face came into focus and that unmistakeable moustache curving as the face smiled.

"Who else?"

Vince rubbed his eyes, sitting up a little. "What's up?" he asked as Howard sat down.

"You were all tangled and thrashing," Howard explained. "Crying out and all."

Vince looked as though he might've denied this, but then he just shrugged.

"I told you they were nightmares."

Howard took a long look at Vince, frowning.

"What do you think has brought this on?" he asked, placing a hand to Vince's forehead. Vince leaned into the touch, and the jazz maverick shivered a little. Then he flopped back on the pillow and buried himself in the duvet.

"Mm, what do you mean?" Vince asked drowsily, eyes still closed. Howard opened his mouth to reply, but Vince was already fast asleep.

**These chapters are shamefully short Dx **

**Keep r/r, my lovelies :D**

**xxx**


	3. Dorian Gray

Three

The sound of a soft thump upstairs announced Vince's awakening and Howard shot a quick look at the clock. 11:59. Before midday. Impressive. The jazz maverick sighed, turning up an old record now his flatmate was showing signs of life. The clock hit twelve and Howard glanced at the door. Nothing. No customers. As usual. He was barely surprised, however; rarely did the Nabootique get more than five visitors a day, and word had just got out that only last week a demonic nana had been terrorising the place.

But as Howard eyed the door, he noticed something wasn't quite right. The sign was turned around so the large letters stating 'OPEN' faced _inward_. He frowned. It wasn't like that a minute ago. Leaving his post at the neon counter to switch the sign round, Vince arrived, walking past Howard and slumping in the barber's chair by the window, as always.

"What time do you call this then, sir?" Howard asked. "Don't tell me; your duvet turned into a straight-jacket? A peacock hypnotised you? What is it this time?"

But Vince stayed silent. The former turned to see his friend. Vince hadn't picked up any magazine, or prepared to slate the soft jazz playing; he just stared straight ahead. He was adorned in nothing less flamboyant than usual- black drainpipe jeans, red Chelsea boots and a strange t-shirt which seemed to have a pattern of multi-coloured owl's eyes- but his face was devoid of makeup, and his hair seemed to be half-straightened.

"Vince?" Howard crouched down to Vince's eye-level, waving a hand in front of his face. "Vince, what happened to your hair?"

"I don't know," Vince whispered. "It was weird…" his voice had a wavering and far-away quality to it that Howard had never heard before.

"Vince, you're not making sense," he was more than a little worried now. "Tell me what happened- _Vince_," he gently took his friend's face in his hands, making their eyes meet. "Tell me what happened."

Vince's expression was strange, as though he'd only just noticed Howard was there.

"I was in the bathroom," he said eventually. "And I was straightening my hair…"

"Go on," Howard urged softly.

"I… I looked up into the mirror and it- it wasn't… _me_. Well, it was, but I- I looked older. Much older. All grey and… old. And then I blinked and it was me again. Normal me. But I- I can't get that… that _image_ out of my head. It was all twisted and creased. Like Dorian Gray."

Howard's initial thought was to ask where the fuck **Vince** had read Dorian Gray, but decided otherwise.

"What do you mean 'twisted'?" he asked instead, gently squeezing his friend's arm.

Vince shuddered. "Grotesque," he whispered, voice on breaking point. "All drooping like melted wax. No eyes, either. Just sort of… shadows."

A tear was creeping down past a beautifully high cheekbone now, and Howard brushed it away with his thumb.

"It was just your imagination," he concluded with a warming smile. "Too many bad dreams."

"Do you think I'm mad?"

Howard realised then Vince was really crying, skinny frame shaking with sobs. This terrified Howard more than any Dorian Gray. This was Vince; fizzy _Vince_, sunshine Vince. Vince who _never_ cried.

"Of course not," he reassured as best he could. "Well, not in the way you're thinking of. It was just you're imagination, okay? You're gorgeous as ever."

Oh. The words were out before Howard could stop them and he cringed immediately. But Vince cracked a smile, which turned into a small laugh.

"You're such a freak, Howard," he chuckled. Howard grinned.

"Says the person with half a head of Root-Boosted perfection and half a head of all-angles-mess. You alright now, little man?"

Vince smiled again and nodded. "Thanks, Howard."

They stared at each other for a long time, until Vince shifted awkwardly and Howard looked away.

"…Vince, I-"

Suddenly there was an ugly shriek from the record player, and both men jumped out of their skins. Then the power cut out.

"_Shit_," Vince breathed, half laughing as his hand went to his chest. "Fuck that scared me."

Howard stood up, walking over to the player, inspecting the vinyl.

"Weird," he muttered.

"What is?" Vince got up to walk over to his friend, peering over his shoulder.

"Records make that noise when the needle jumps," the Northerner explained. "But it was right in place."

"Maybe it was on the record to start with?" Vince suggested, but Howard shook his head.

"No, no, this has been played at least twice before and that's never happened…" he turned to see Vince looking around at the darkened room chewing his nails. "Hey," Howard smiled. "It was probably just the power cut. I'll check the fuse box."

"Can I come?"

Howard stared in disbelief. Whatever Vince thought he'd seen this morning had clearly gotten to him deeper than Howard thought.

"Vince, you can see it from here," he said, waving a hand in the general direction of the fuse box, sitting on the wall beside the piano. Vince looked where Howard was pointing.

"Oh," he said dazedly. "Oh, okay."

Howard opened his mouth, hesitated, then said;

"You don't have to be scared of anything, Vince."

Vince's eyes snapped up.

"I'm not scared," he pressed, but his voice was thin and high. Howard gave him a stern look and they stared at each other for at least a minute. Vince raised an eyebrow. Howard's moustache twitched. Then they were both laughing, fear forgotten.

"Go sort your hair out," Howard smirked, ruffling the tousled mess before turning to prise the lid from the power cabinet. Vince looked into the mirror behind him, running a hand through jet black locks.

"You know, I think this could be a new look…" he mused idly.

"Ow!"

Vince spun to see Howard cursing and sucking his finger.

"What you doin', you tit?" the younger asked, trying to keep humour from his voice.

"Electric shock," Howard mumbled.

"Ey?"

"It gave me an electric shock… every fuse has blown."

"How do you know?" Vince asked.

"They're all smoking."

"Oh. Shit, then."

"Yep."

Silence enveloped the shop. Vince's eyes flashed, having suddenly remembered something.

"Make up!" he muttered, flying upstairs. Walking along to his and Howard's room, he glanced down at his boots at they thudded softly on the floor. Then he stopped suddenly outside their door, heartbeat volume maximized in his ears. He moved a foot which was obscuring something he hoped to God wasn't actually there. Breath catching in his throat, he saw it. Eight long, thin lines scratched onto the floor. As though someone had been clawing at the floorboards.

**Aaha there are no paragraphs in this D: Ah well. Hope you like this chapter, guys :) and a special thank you to bollobrown on tumblr, who inspired the mirror idea :)**

**R/r, guys :D**

**xxx**


	4. Damage

**Four**

Vince couldn't breathe. He slumped backed against the wall and slid to the floor, eyes wide and staring. This was surreal. Insane. _Impossible_. Right? Dreams don't come true they just don't. Not even in the world of evil green cockneys and deranged yetis. So why were there claw marks carved into the floor? Claw marks caused by Vince's hands as he was dragged backwards along the ground into the clutches of some dreamt-up monster.

"Vince?" Vince heard Howard's footsteps fast approaching but the sound seemed distant and echoing. His head hurt like someone was drilling though it.

"Vince, God what happened?" Howard was close enough to haul Vince's skinny frame into his arms, shaking him lightly. "Vince, look at me?"

Vince raised his eyes but they couldn't focus. Howard's voice didn't seem quite there, and soon all Vince could hear was the sound of fingernails against wood, deteriorating into silence.

**Xx**

Vince opened an eye warily. Then the other. It was dark. Which was strange, because the last thing he remembered was it being half past midday. A single candle flickered in the slight breeze of the open skylight. Howard was perched on the end of his bed, head buried in a jazz magazine.

"What time is it?" Vince groaned, sitting up.

"About half past six," Howard replied, unmoving.

"Jesus," Vince absently ran a hand through tousled hair. "How long was I out for?"

"A long time."

Vince looked at Howard for a while, frowning.

"Howard, what's wrong?" he asked eventually.

Howard looked up. "What?"

"You're acting _well _weird," Vince said, squinting at his friend in the darkness.

"I'm fine, Vince," the Maverick replied moodily.

"Howard-" Vince outstretched a hand to place on his friend's shoulder, but Howard moved away quickly, leaving the hand hovering in mid-air.

"**Don't touch me**!"

Vince drew back as though he'd been stung.

"Howard…" he began carefully, voice low. "What's happened?"

Howard was silent for several minutes. The poor candle light danced off his face every now and then, making him look almost eerie.

"Nothing happened, Vince."

**Xx**

_Vince was upstairs, still passed out. About an hour ago, he'd woken briefly, writhing around and screaming, but he had only been half-conscious. It was doubtful he'd remember at all. Finally, Howard brought out a candle. It was short and fat, but it was all they had. Power was still out, which was strange because no other building on the street was. Earlier, the Jazz Maverick had knocked on a few doors asking around, but nothing received was useful. So finally, and with slight reluctance, he traipsed over to Lester Corncrake's, hoping Vince would be out of it for a little longer._

_Lester was sat in his rocking chair, listening to some old jazz record. Howard couldn't tell if he was awake or asleep, so he knocked very quietly on the door. The older sat up straight immediately, walked into a closet, walked out and answered the door. _

_After sticking a hand in Howard's face and feeling around for a minute, he finally cried;_

"_Howard!"_

_Howard slapped the hand away in annoyance and grunted._

"_Yeah, Lester, I need your help-"_

"_Suree come in," Lester's accent leered at the Northerner and Howard sighed, walking past him into the dusty old room. _

"_Lester, do you have the number for the power supply company? The flat and the shop's out."_

_Lester frowned, thinking, before nodding._

"_Great," Howard grinned. "Where is it?"_

"_You stay still there, Howard, I'll go fetch it."_

_Howard raised an eyebrow as Lester disappeared up the stairs, not bothering to mention the fact he was blind. The Northerner shifted awkwardly, not sure whether to sit down or not._

_And then he was standing in silence. The record had ended and he hadn't noticed. It was cold. Not just because it was November; something had come across the room which made Howard extremely uncomfortable. The record player began to crackle, and Howard's eyes were drawn to it out of anxious curiosity. Slowly, the record began to spin again, the crackles forming whispers Howard couldn't quite make out._

"_No, no," he said quietly to himself. "No, I've had fucking enough of freaky shit today!"_

_Storming over to the player he wrenched the needle away from the record, turning his back on it and running a hand through waving brown hair. _

_But it didn't stop._

_The record didn't stop._

_It didn't stop turning, the whispers didn't stop coming._

_Howard spun around and stared. He felt his breath catch in his throat, felt himself begin to shake as he tried to make out words from the fractured hisses. _

_**How…**_

_Howard's eyes widened and he crouched down by the player, craning his neck to hear more._

_**Howard…**_

"_What, what do you want?"_

_**Listen.**_

"_I am!"_

_**Noir…**_

"_What?"_

_**Vince Noir. **_

"_What about Vince?"_

_**Damage…**_

"_What, damage?" Howard frowned, trying to adjust the volume._

_**Damage Vince Noir.**_

_Howard didn't say anything. He just stared._

_**Before he…**_

"_Before what? _Before what_?"_

_**Before he damages you.**_

"_What do you mean?"_

_**Before he damages you.**_

"_What do you mean?"_

_**Before he damages you.**_

"_You've said that already!"_

_**Before he-**_

_Howard seethed, pulling the record from the player and throwing it violently across the room. _

"_No, I said I'd had fucking enough! That's fucking enough!"_

"_Howard?"_

_Howard turned suddenly, chest heaving. Lester stood at the foot of the stairs, an eyebrow raised, holding a small piece of card._

"_I got that number?"_

**Xx**

"Howard…"

Vince approached Howard cautiously in the shop. It was about half an hour later and his friend was still quiet and snappy and on edge. Vince hated it. "Howard, why are you looking like that's gonna eat you?"

He pointed to the record player in the corner of the room and Howard shrugged, not taking his eyes off it.

"No reason."

"Howard-"

Something creaked upstairs and Vince jumped, looking up at the ceiling.

"Howard, I'm scared."

Howard turned to look at his friend. His big blue eyes were wide with fear. He looked helplessly small in one of Howard's huge woollen sweaters, skinny legs clad in plain black jeans, feet bare. He was shaking. And suddenly Howard felt _awful_. Nothing like that could hurt him.

He walked over and in one swift motion, enveloped Vince in his arms, pulling him close, hushing him soothingly.

"Hey," he whispered. "It's going to be okay."

Vince clung to him, burying his head in his jazzy cardigan. Howard smiled. Silence drew upon the flat and they stood together for a while, breathing deeply. Vince looked up into Howard's eyes after a few minutes. Suddenly, nothing was scary any more. Suddenly the flat wasn't there and the silence wasn't creepy and there was only Howard and Vince and it was fearless.

Then, there was a huge clattering, brining them both back down to earth.

Vince screamed, and Howard jumped.

"What was that?" the younger whimpered. Howard looked around and shrugged in what he hoped was a casual way.

"Something falling over in the breeze."

Vince nodded and swallowed, eyes darting frantically left and right. Howard gently tilted his chin upward.

"Hey," he said softly. "Want me to go look?"

"Can I come with you?"

Howard smiled. "Sure."

Vince gripped onto Howard's hand, bare feet pattering quietly against the floorboards as the two head upstairs.

**OMGHAI!**

**Sorry I haven't updated in a while.**

**Had writers block**

**But I'm all good.**

**AND I KNOW WHERE THIS SHIT IS GOING :D**

**Again, thank you to the LOVELY Ellen (bollobrown) for help with this chapter :D**

**r/r m'dears!**

**xxx**


	5. Peter Pan Syndrome

Five

They were coming. He knew they were coming. Ever closer; creeping closer. That feeling of being watched- of being controlled. That feeling making the tiny hairs on the back of his arms and neck stand up. Making him shake.

"You alright, little man?" Howard squeezed his hand gently. Vince nodded, forcing a smile. Howard smiled back, letting go of the younger for a moment to twist the bedroom door handle.

"Ouch," Vince hissed, looking down and hopping. Howard raised an eyebrow. "Trod on a stud. Must've come off of my jacket…"

Howard laughed, turning back to the door and pushing it open.

And he wished he hadn't.

Everything was upturned, bed sheets torn, posters ripped and fallen. Howards drawers were open, clothes hanging out. The contents of Vince's wardrobe were scattered across the floor, one of the closet doors attached only by one hinge. What looked like red paint was splattered across the walls, spelling out three words.

WATCH THE SHADOWS.

"My God," Howard breathed. Vince looked up and immediately Howard clamped a hand over his eyes.

"What the-"

"Vince," Howard said, trying to keep his tone level. "Vince, stay here and keep your eyes closed."

"What you on about?"

"Vince, _please_."

"Okay, alright! You loon…"

Howard nodded, removing his hand. Vince's eyes were squeezed shut. Howard backed into the room, making sure Vince kept his eyes closed. When he was sure he would, Howard turned to inspect the wreckage.

Slowly, he walked over to the wall, inspecting the message, touching two fingers to the dripping words. With a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, he realised it wasn't written in red paint.

"Howard?" Vince called out. "Can I open my eyes?"

"One second," Howard ran back to Vince, clasping each of his small hands. "Be prepared," he warned.

Vince opened his eyes.

"Um… Howard?"

Howard turned.

No, no, this wasn't right. The room was untouched. No upturned furniture, no blood on the walls.

"But…"

Vince laughed. "You're going crazy."

"I swear I…" shrugging, he chuckled lightly. "Yeah… crazy…"

But something caught his eye.

"Vince, move your arm!"

"Wha-"

"Vince!"

Vince's eyes widened and he quickly stuck his arm in the air.

But his shadow didn't.

"Watch the shadows," Howard gasped. Vince turned, but as he did, his shadow copied.

"Alright, Peter Pan," he smirked, trying thinly to veil uneasiness. Howard stared at the dark shape on the wall for what seemed at least a minute. Eventually, he shook his head.

"I'm… going to get some food," he said slowly. Suddenly, Vince's mask dropped and he began to panic.

"No, Howard, you can't leave me!"

"Come with me then?"

Vince shifted, chewing his lip. "I think…" he said. "I think one of us should stay here."

Howard frowned at him for a while before saying carefully;

"Vince, there's a Tesco just down the road, I'll be five minutes-" Vince was shaking his head frantically.

"No, no, Howard-"

"Vince, _please_," Howard pressed, grasping his friend's hands again. "Five minutes. I won't be any longer I promise- Vince look at me," Vince raised his eyes to see Howard smiling softly. "I _promise_."

The younger stared for a while before slowly nodding.

"Okay," he whispered. "I'll wait here."

Howard grinned and kissed Vince on his forehead before fleeting downstairs.

Vince took a deep breath, closing his eyes, listening to Howard's footsteps and the quiet click down in the shop as the door had closed.

He was alone.

**Xx**

Vince shuddered under the cool breeze. He eyed up the skylight. It was open. Giving himself something to do, he padded into the next room, dragging a stool onto the landing and underneath the old window. He clambered on top, bare toes curling around the edges of the seat, stretching out an arm and clutching at the window latch. It was rusty and ancient, and it wasn't budging. He tugged harder, and suddenly the stool wobbled and Vince leapt from it just as it fell on its side. He blinked, staring at the stool, then up at the skylight. It was still open.

There was a creak on the stairs. Vince's ears pricked up and he grinned. Howard was back. Running out onto the landing he grinned to see Howard's smiling face looking up at him.

But something wasn't quite right. Vince closed his eyes, taking a deep draught of air and opening them again. Howard was gone. There was something in the atmosphere- something that suggested Howard had never been there. Like it was just part of Vince's imagination…

But then why were the stairs still creaking?

The shadows began to shift.

Suddenly there was a loud thud, like a footstep, right by Vince's feet, and he yelped, falling backwards and stumbling toward his bedroom. Panic-stricken, he wrenched open the door, darting inside and closing himself in. He shivered. His breath danced before his eyes in a glittery frost.

They were coming. He knew they were coming. His heart was pounding in his ears; fast and afraid. Curled up in a sort of self-hug, knees up to his chest, he shook with terror. Biting his lip so hard it bled, his big blue eyes anxiously peering out, tears running unchecked down his face. He huddled in the corner of the room, gaze locked on the door, bolted even though he knew that wouldn't stop them. Outside, a floorboard creaked. He jumped, clamping a hand to his mouth to stifle a cry. Slow and deliberate footsteps echoed around the landing, just on the other side of the flimsy plywood door. Breathing deeply, trying not to lapse into hyperventilation, he scrunched his eyes closed, burying his head between his knees. The footsteps stopped. But they were still coming. He knew they were…

**OHAI GUYS.**

**Again sorry for my failiure to update quickly.**

**BUT**

**I've already written half of chapter six, and i know now there are going to be seven chapters.**

**Thankyou to the lovely Adeline who helped me on this one :)**

**r/r!**

**xxxxx**


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